


Thinking Out Loud

by DoAsYouWill



Category: South Park
Genre: Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-28
Updated: 2017-06-28
Packaged: 2018-11-20 06:54:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,053
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11330751
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DoAsYouWill/pseuds/DoAsYouWill
Summary: Craig and Tweek are pressured into attending a school dance.





	Thinking Out Loud

“I can’t believe the fucking Asians talked us into going to the school dance.”

Tweek sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose and leaning against the wall of the South Park Elementary school gym. “I know, Craig. _NGH_ \- You’ve said that about forty times so far tonight. And I don’t want to be here anymore than you do.”

Craig blinked at Tweek, giving him a deadpanned glare. “Then why _are_ we here?”

“Because if we leave too early, then the Asian girls will start crying and think that we broke up again,” Tweek said, equally discouraged. He continued, his voice gathering speed and intensity, and he pushed off of the wall to allow himself more room to panic. “And then we’ll have to get back together again, because the entire town will be manically depressed, even though our relationship has nothing to do with them, and people will walk up to me on the street and ask if I’m okay, because since that time I broke up with you in the middle of the school lobby and accused you of being a manipulative liar and a cheater, everybody thinks that every single problem we’ll ever have is your fault, and I’ll get all this pity that I don’t deserve, and that makes me feel even worse for making up such a stupid lie -”

“Tweek, calm down,” Craig said blankly, taking Tweek’s hand in his and squeezing tightly. “If we leave together, then they won’t think we broke up. They’ll just think we got bored and left. Which is exactly what we’ll be doing.”

“That’s that’s an option?” Tweek asked, his voice hushed and intrigued. He leaned closer to Craig, (which placed them . . . actually pretty close, closer than normal friends would’ve stood anyway, and Tweek was clearly pleased that Craig was offering him a way out).

Craig looked at him, resting his back against the wall. “Dude, of course it is,” he said, as if it were obvious. “Just because we’re faking a relationship so that the entire town doesn’t sink into irreversible depression, doesn’t mean that we have to be completely at their mercy. I refuse to be controlled like that. I hate dancing, I hate dressing up,” he glanced down at the suit his classmates had pressured him into, “and I hate being around so many people at the same time.” He glared at all the happy elementary school kids, dancing with each other, and picking little sandwiches from the snack table, and dumping spoonful after spoonful of punch into the cheap plastic Dixie cups that the school provided. “I’d much rather just go home and watch Red Racer. Or even just listen to music and play video games.”

Tweek was constantly surprised by how much Craig could say if given the chance, (and the motivation). “Oh, awesome,” he said eagerly. “Let’s leave. Please.”

Craig nodded, but didn’t answer, instead pushing off of the wall and tugging on Tweek’s hand so that he followed him towards the bright red light of the EXIT sign.

The end was in sight -- Craig and Tweek actually thought they’d get away with sneaking out without being noticed -- but a black-haired girl in a long, lavender dress called out for them to stop, and, when they turned around, they were met with a confused Wendy Testaburger.

“Where are you guys going?” she asked, her voice oddly disappointed when she noticed them starting to leave. “You haven’t danced yet.”

Craig glanced at Tweek, his expression blank and emotionless. He didn’t miss the fact that she had been watching them intently enough to know if they’d danced or not, and he was slightly creeped out by that, but also extremely annoyed by the fact that he and Tweek were always shoved so directly into the limelight that people actively documented their actions.

Tweek, on the other hand was rapidly losing his cool, and his twitching (which had, actually, decreased in violence and frequency), steadily got worse. He stared at Craig, seeking some of the reassurance that the boy always seemed to reserve for him, and did indeed receive it, (sorta), in the form of a hand squeeze and a barely-detectable nod.

“We don’t dance,” Craig said, turning back to Wendy, keeping his face purposefully empty so that she wouldn’t notice how exasperated he was with her, and so she couldn’t bitch to Stan and cause a fight.

“Oh, but you have to!” she exclaimed. “All the couples are dancing!”

“We aren’t.”

Wendy pouted, staring at them, as if she thought that the more pathetic she appeared, the more likely they were to cave in and dance. Just so that her childish and obsessive heart could be relieved that the most ‘reliable’ couple in South Park was alright. It was selfish, really, and nothing seemed to piss Craig off more than people assuming that their relationship was just for them. Even though it was, they had no right to just _assume_ that it was.

Wendy and Craig had a staring contest for a few, tense seconds, with Tweek on the sidelines, happily excluded from the equation and watching as an _extremely_ Craig-partial audience member.

Before Craig could refuse further, a slow song started pouring from the speakers strategically placed all around the gymnasium. Craig actually cringed outwardly, (instead of inwardly, as he usually did when he was mildly irritated with the minor details of his distant surroundings), when he recognized what the song was. Ed Sheeran. _Thinking Out Loud_. It was such a fucking cheesy song, and Craig couldn’t believe that there was anybody in the world that thought it’d be a good idea to play it at any dance ever. It wasn’t romantic. It wasn’t heartwarming. It _was_ currently making his stomach churn in second-hand embarrassment on Ed Sheeran’s part.

He sighed, glancing at Tweek in resignation, as he realized that half the female population of the dance had turned their heads to stare at the young couple in the hope and anticipation of seeing them dance at their first school dance.

Tweek caught Craig’s eye and he muttered out a quiet, “GAH!” before nodding and allowing Craig to slowly lead him in the direction of the dance floor.

“NGH! I can’t believe we’re doing this!” Tweek complained in a shaky voice, halting as far from the center of the dance floor as possible while still technically being on the dance floor.

“Me neither, dude,” Craig agreed, pulling Tweek towards him. “But we are, so . . . how _do_ we do this?”

Tweek looked at all the other couples, mentally taking notes on the position they had assumed, and said, “Well . . . one of us puts our hands on the other’s waist, and the other puts our hands on their shoulders. That’s what everybody else is doing.”

“Great. Put your hands on my shoulders.”

Tweek frowned, looking at him in sudden defiance. “Why do _I_ have to put my hands on _your_ shoulders? I don’t want you touching my waist!”

Craig snorted. “There’s no way in hell I’m going to be the bitch. Put your hands on my shoulders. I’ll be . . . gentle.” He spoke these last words like they were poison to his tongue, but he knew that his ‘confession’ would either amuse Tweek greatly, or else comfort him enough to follow suit with Craig’s more-or-less request.

“But . . . I’ll shake,” Tweek argued weakly.

“I don’t care.”

“Well you should, because it’ll just irritate you -”

“It won’t irritate me. I didn’t mean it like that. I meant it won’t bother me.”

“But it’ll bother _me_ -”

“You’ll be fine.”

While the two were busy quietly arguing about who was going to ‘be the bitch’, an actual spotlight, that was hanging from the rafters and was probably organized just for that exact moment, was placed on them. They had gathered a considerable audience. It was Tweek who had noticed this first; he squealed, staring around at the crowd with wide, horrified eyes, and he dropped his blushing face into his hands and stuttered out nonsense about wanting to leave.

Because Tweek was busy not paying attention to Craig, Craig took the moment to latch his hands onto Tweek’s waist. This effectively awakened Tweek to the other boy in front of him, who was appropriately stone-faced, as he pulled Tweek closer to him.

“You were panicking,” Craig said as an explanation. “You always calm down when I touch you.”

These words caused Tweek’s already-pink cheeks to turn an alarming shade of scarlet. “O-oh . . . GAH! NGH! W-well . . . you’re . . . you . . . I don’t . . . i-it’s just because . . . um . . .” Unable to really explain his feelings properly, Tweek spiraled into a pit of nonsensical ramblings that made Craig blink, and then roll his eyes.

“As soon as this song is over, we’re leaving,” he said firmly. “I’m getting really sick of constantly acting around everybody. And you should probably put your hands on my shoulders. This is starting to feel really weird.”

With a shaky nod, Tweek reached a trembling hand, placing it unsurely on the opposite shoulder of Craig. He held it there for a second, before allowing his second hand to find it’s place on Craig’s body, his fingers flexing nervously over Craig’s suit jacket. They stared at each other for a second, allowing the total humiliation to wash over them, before they glanced away and awkwardly began to sway to the slow beat of the song, ignoring the lyrics and each other’s gazes.

The two were silent for a bit, before Tweek said, “This is so fucking embarrassing,” and he squeezed his eyes shut and gave into the tremors of nerves that were wracking his body.

“Don’t talk,” Craig commanded. “You’re making it even more awkward.”

“Why do they care so much?” Tweek asked, completely disregarding his boyfriend’s request. “It’s not like they know anything about us. They’re just going off of looks and the basics of our personality! That’s gotta be what it is! I mean . . . you have black hair! NGH! I have blonde hair! That apparently looks good together! You’re always calm, and I’m _never_ calm! You’re the only thing besides coffee that calms me down! Apparently that’s enough to assume we’d be a good couple! I’m not even gay! I’m not!”

Tweek was starting to get hysterical, despite the fact that he was only half a foot from having his body pressed wholly against Craig’s. Craig didn’t know what else to do to calm him down, besides clearing his throat and saying as comforting as possible, “If you calm down, I’ll buy you as much coffee as you can drink for the rest of the week.”

“That doesn’t mean anything!” Tweek immediately exclaimed, the volume of his voice rising in his anxiety. “I work at a coffee shop, Craig! I can drink coffee whenever I want to!”

Craig frowned at his failed attempt and tried an alternative tactic. “If you calm down, I’ll do your homework for a week.”

“GAH! No _way_ , man! We’d get caught for sure, and then we’d both be sent to detention, and then we’d be expelled for cheating, and I’d never get into college, and my parents would _disown_ me -”

“Tweek,” Craig said softly. Softer than he’d ever spoken to him, because he appreciated the boy’s nervousness that time around. Usually, Craig tended accordingly to Tweek’s anxiety disorder, but he never understood where his delusions and paranoia came from. Truth be told, Craig wasn’t his normal calm self in that moment, either. “Calm down. If you calm down, I’ll let you hold Stripe.”

That got Tweek to at least quiet down. Craig had never offered that before. In fact, he’d never really let Tweek see much of Stripe at all; he was extremely possessive of his guinea pig. So much so, that Tweek thought it unwise to question it, and allowed Craig his one strange quirk. “But . . . but I’d drop her -”

“No you wouldn’t,” Craig countered calmly. “I’d be with you, and I’d make sure you’d keep your hands steady. Stripe’s just like me. She can take a lot. And she’s also great at comforting people when they’re scared.” He paused thoughtfully. “Not like I’m all that great at comforting people, but if you’re looking for more perks, there’s one.”

At these words, Tweek let out a long, deep breath, his eyes fluttering closed, and he worried his bottom lip. He was actively trying to calm down; he never wanted to freak out as much as he did, but there were so many things that set him off, and it was impossible for him to avoid them all. And he’d never had the incentive to calm himself down before, besides the fact that he’d be calm. Tweek knew how important Stripe was to Craig; he was actually feeling honored that Craig would trust his most favoritest thing in the whole world with him. And for that reason, he tried to steady his breathing, and attempted to manipulate his heart into beating more slowly and more evenly. (He knew such a feat was possible, but was unsure of actually how to do it.)

Craig, on the other hand, was as calm as he figured he could be in the situation he was in. Practically forced into a gay relationship with one of his best friends. Slow dancing for the first time with a boy, instead of a nice, pretty girl like he’d always pictured. And, if he was really being honest with himself, he’d admit the fact that he didn’t mind Tweek’s company. Quite the opposite, actually. He really, really enjoyed Tweek’s company. But that was because they were best friends, he was sure. But even all the physical contact they’d had as a couple: the hand-holding, the weird thigh-brushes whenever they sat too close together at movie nights, the occasional hug, (that, surprisingly, or unsurprisingly, was usually initiated by Craig whenever Tweek was having an absolute panicked meltdown over something or other), and now, their first slow dance. Craig had never actually been that close to another human being before, that wasn’t his parents. He couldn’t even remember the last time he’d hugged Ruby, and he’d immediately veto any request for an embrace made by his friends. (Well, Clyde, really.)

But Craig found that, having his hands on Tweek’s waist, and being so close to the other boy . . . really wasn’t all that bad. And he took the time to study Tweek’s anxious expression, as he wouldn’t get caught staring due to Tweek’s closed eyes. Tweek was pale, and that was evident even in the dimmed lighting of the gym. He was pale, and had hardly any blemishes. Not a freckle, or even the beginnings of pimples. No scars or scabs. All of Tweek’s accidentally self-inflicted wounds could be found on his hands, and in some of the mildly-bald spots on his head, caused by Tweek’s tendency to pull on his hair. His bottom lip was bigger than his top, probably because he bit on it quite a lot in the attempt to quiet himself when in a place that required silence. (Like that one time he’d been given a detention after being caught in some shenanigans with Stan’s group, and in Church, and during quiet reading time in class.) His nose would scrunch up every once in a while, reminding Craig immensely of Stripe, and his eyes would clench and unclench periodically.

Finally, Tweek’s eyes flicked open again, and he offered Craig a small nod. He was still shaking, but it wasn’t as pronounced as it had been before. “Okay. I’m calm now. Is the song almost over?”

Craig blinked himself out of his stupor. “Almost. We got like, a minute left or something.”

“Craig . . .” Tweek said hesitantly, averting his eyes again in favor of the faux wooden floor. “This might sound a little - NGH - weird, but . . . if I had to be forced into a gay relationship with someone . . . well . . . let’s just say I’m glad it was you.”

At such an unexpected confession, Craig blinked slowly, and felt his cheeks warming up despite himself. He had to admit, he’d thought something similar on several occasions. That if he had a choice in his fake boyfriend, Tweek would be his number one, but he’d never even dreamed of voicing that out loud. Of course, he wanted out of the situation as soon as the PC craze calmed down, but, for the time being, he was content being in a relationship with Tweek. It was comfortable. They had a lot of fun together, and Craig felt a little proud whenever he could calm Tweek down with something stupid he’d come up with, like allowing Tweek something so simple as holding Craig’s guinea pig.

And Craig now knew that he was rather unusually exceptional at soothing Tweek’s nerves, as just admitted by the nervous, trembling boy in his arms.

So, he found himself saying . . .

. . . “I don’t know, I think it might be cool to be in a fake relationship with Clyde.”

He couldn’t help himself. He was never very good at emotional moments, not even with his parents. He got nervous; he didn’t like sharing his . . . _feelings_ , (the idea was so foreign that Craig literally couldn’t stop himself from thinking the word with as much venom as his mind’s voice could scrounge up), with anyone. It made him extremely uncomfortable, and he thought that he and Tweek would just awkwardly dance together, without saying a word, before leaving for Craig’s house, (they were having a sleepover), and never speaking of the moment ever again. Clearly Tweek had other plans.

Speaking of Tweek, he was currently on the verge of hyperventilating. “GAH!” Tweek said anxiously, loud enough to travel to the crowd that were still watching them with heart eyes. “Does that mean you’re - NGH! - breaking up with me?”

Craig smirked. “No. It means I’m joking with you. Being in a fake relationship with Clyde would be the worst thing ever. He complains _all the time_.”

“NGH! _I_ complain all the time!”

“Yeah, but I don’t mind it when you do it.”

“But I panic over _everything_!”

Craig shrugged. “I don’t mind that, either. It’s what you do. And when I calm you down, or hand you a coffee, you’re really fun to be around.”

“But . . . but isn’t Clyde fun to be around to?”

Craig shrugged again. “I guess so. He’s one of my best friends, but it’s not the same.”

Before Tweek could answer, Craig continued. “Besides, you’re much stronger than he is. He cries whenever something even remotely stressful happens. It annoys the hell out of me. I’ve never seen you cry in as long as I’ve known you, even when you’re freaking out about something. What do I always say?”

Craig looked at Tweek, expecting an answer.

“U-uh . . . I’m capable . . . GAH! - I’m capable of . . . of more than I think . . .” he mumbled, the embarrassment washing over him, both at the fact that he freaked out so much at the prospect of being dumped by someone he knew didn’t even want to be in the relationship to begin with, and also because it was just such an embarrassing thing to say out loud.

“That’s right. And . . . for what it’s worth . . .” Craig hesitated, his mind telling him both to say what he was planning on saying, but also to avoid the topic completely and hightail it from the room, (bringing Tweek along with him, of course). He’d decided that if Tweek was going to make a fool of himself, he might as well join the club. “If I had to pick someone to be in a fake relationship with . . . I’d pick you, too.”

Craig immediately ducked his head to hide his face, the humiliation of such a statement causing his stomach to punch itself from the inside, and his mind to yell at him that he’d picked the wrong option given to him before, and his hands to tighten subconsciously on Tweek’s waist.

His eyes were brought back up again when Tweek said softly, “Oh. Thanks.” The caffeine-addicted boy was bright red, his eyes fixed on the floor, but there was a small smile on his face. It made Craig’s stomach do with weird floppy shit, (he didn’t know how to put it in words), but he felt himself smile, too.  

After a few seconds, Tweek lifted his gaze, and caught Craig’s eyes. He was surprised by how happy Craig looked; usually, Craig didn’t really show his emotions, and, sure, he’d been doing that more and more around Tweek especially, but Tweek didn’t think the moment really called for any feelings of happiness on Craig’s part. Tweek, on the other hand, was actually really, really happy that Craig wasn’t sick of him, or that he didn’t actually want to rid himself of Tweek’s insanity. It made him feel all fluttery inside, even if he told himself it wasn’t a big deal, and that Craig probably didn’t mean anything substantial by it. Just that they were good friends. And Tweek was okay with that.

Neither of them really had much else to say, so they just looked at each other, still swaying almost imperceptibly to the song that was beginning to fade out. As the final cord to the cheesy ginger’s guitar sounded, the couple released each other, but immediately took the other’s hand.

“Ready to finally get out of this hell hole?” Craig asked, nodding in the direction of the exit door.

“I’ve been ready for the past five minutes,” Tweek answered. His words suggested irritation, but he was still sporting his pleased smile from before, and allowed Craig to lead him towards their way out.

But as Craig and Tweek headed towards the exit, hands clasped together, they had to pass by the Asians and Wendy, who were speaking in hushed whispers that the couple could hear _clearly_.

“Oh my God, look at them!” someone cooed happily.

“They’re so cute together!” someone else answered with a giggle.

“I wish I could have a boyfriend like Craig! He’s so sweet, and he cares about Tweek so much!” Craig cleared his throat awkwardly, staring at his shoes as he walked.

“Oh, but Tweek is so cute! If I had a boyfriend like Tweek, I would never let him go!” Tweek let out a little groan of embarrassment, tightening his grip on Craig’s hand, his eyes fixed to the floor.

“They’re so in love!” someone exclaimed perhaps a bit too loudly.

This last one caused both Tweek and Craig to turn scarlet, pointedly avoiding anyone’s gaze as they tried to calm their synced racing hearts.  

“I hate this fucking town,” Craig bit through clenched teeth, narrowing his eyes angrily.

“GAH! NGH! Me, too,” Tweek agreed hurriedly.

Their obvious embarrassment and frustration was lost on the girls, whose eyes were still glued to Craig and Tweek, and they continued quietly fantasizing about their very public relationship.

“They both look so handsome in their suits! Oh, imagine if they kissed right now!”

A collective swoon.

“I think I’d have a heart attack!”

Craig, who finally had enough, rounded on the girls, delivering a swift, dark scowl to them. “Would you guys give it a rest for one fucking night!” he exclaimed angrily, the hand not holding Tweek’s tightening into a fist. “You’re pissing me off, and you’re going to give Tweek a panic attack!”

The girls immediately fell silent, hugging notebooks to their chest that they’d brought for the sole purpose of drawing Craig and Tweek. They stared in slight fear as Craig tugged on Tweek’s hand, guiding him to the exit door, not looking back at the startled-looking girls he was leaving behind.

As soon as the door closed behind them, Craig let out a harsh breath. “They piss me off.”

Tweek sighed. “I know. They piss me off, too. But you shouldn’t let them get to you.”

Craig turned to Tweek with a raised eyebrow. “Are you trying to calm me down?” he asked blankly.

With a shrug, Tweek said, “I guess so. Is it working?”

Craig thought for a moment, before ultimately coming to a conclusion. “Yeah.”

Tweek grinned. His twitching had completely subsided, so happy was he to have been able to calm Craig down, in his almost impenetrable state of irritation. It was hard to crack him when he was annoyed. “Good. Red Racer marathon?”

At that, Craig smiled and nodded. “Red Racer marathon.”


End file.
